


Crossword Puzzle

by Hambone



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Bondage, Interrogation, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Riding Crops, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 05:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4467089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl is liking the results his latest interrogation tactic is getting. So is its subject.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossword Puzzle

**Author's Note:**

> Commission for comradewodka on my tumblr. It's dubious consent because of the situation but Shockwave very much into it. Enjoy!

“What do you think of this, Deception?”

Prowl came to a halt in front of him, slapping the crop across his palm for emphasis. Shockwave’s optic bored blankly into him, blinded by the signal blockers he had clamped on either side of its housing. Even if he had been able to see, Prowl doubted there would be much reaction, counted on it. That was what made the challenge, after all; anything less would have hardly required his care. Holding the crop to what sufficed as Shockwave’s chin, he tilted the Con’s head up with some effort, as if to look him over.

“Well?”

Shockwave’s chest rumbled, a low, resonant sound that seemed out of place within his bulky frame.

“I think little enough that it does not merit vocalizing.”

Scoffing, Prowl cracked the crop again, resuming his pacing.

“Yes, I would imagine you do think you’re above all this.”

“Then why waste both our time asking.”

It was phrased as a question but spoken as a statement. Prowl tightened his lips. He had never been much for banter. Standing behind him now, he pulled up on one of the cables tied tightly around Shockwave’s back, centered between the false wings that jutted sharply beside his spinal casing.

That did get a reaction, if a small one. Shockwave jolted closer, shifting upward on his knees where he was crouched, forcibly held down by his bonds. It was an understandable lapse in his stillness; the cable Prowl had chosen wound down in an intricate geometric maze to the crux of his legs, folded neatly beneath him, and, when tugged at just the right angle, rubbed against his exterior node rather fiercely, pushing the wide plug that stretched him in deeper. He was sure it was quite distracting.

“You need to learn your place within the hierarchy of the law,” said Prowl, calling up the list of Shockwave’s past charges, already dwarfed well by what Prowl had drawn from him since coming into care of his custody. They were largely smaller crimes than what he was known for, but Prowl enjoyed the way they filled out his rap sheet to a nice plump 600GB.

“The hierarchy of the law?” if Prowl hadn’t known better he would have thought there was a slightly haughty ring to the words. He shot Shockwave a rather dry look.

“Do you scoff at the Autobot Code?”

Slowly at first he ran a hand down Shockwave’s chest until it met the central cable over the black glass of his breast. Rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, Prowl hummed.

“You shouldn’t. These rules are the only thing keeping the many, many faces within this facilities’ walls from beating you into a hunk of scrap metal.”

He tugged the cable sharply. This time Shockwave’s jump was more obvious, the motion making his heavy spike, equally bound, bob between his legs. Circling back to the front of his captive, Prowl crossed his arms and waited.

“Is that a statement intended to frighten me?” his grey optic stared at Prowl’s knees. “You would never break your own rules like that. I know of you, and of your type. You all follow your own premade regulations on point. Logically, you will not allow anything to happen to me unless you can find a way to make it fall within the bounds of your rules.” He tilted his helm up then, meeting Prowl’s face as if he really could see. “Logically.”

Perhaps, Prowl mused, he was supposed to be unnerved. He snapped the crop again.

“Clearly your logic isn’t very strong if you managed to land yourself here. I believe it was,” he paused, calling up the file, “an ex-Wrecker who brought you in? Not even a full-fledged team. If you felt things, you’d probably be embarrassed.”

“There is no such thing as perfection. Even I miscalculate.” Shockwave shifted, a small shock of electricity dancing across his thigh. Prowl could see a thin line of lubricant drip from the central cable across the plug.

“Then why bother with it when there are schools of thought more concrete in their reasoning.”

“Must we argue this way? It bores me.”

Prowl lifted the tip of his toe to rub gently down the underside of Shockwave’s fat spike, tracing where the thinner cables dug into the grooves in its plating, watching a bead of prefluid at the tip grow.

“No, I suppose we mustn’t.”

“Besides,” Shockwave continued, despite his own complaint, “law allows very little room for the interpretation of individual situations and grows irrelevant quickly. Logic is in itself a way of thinking, not rubric for thought. You cannot compare the two so easily.”

“And you cannot give up the subject so easily, it seems.”

Prowl pressed down sharply, pinning Shockwave’s plug to his groin. All the antennae on the convicts head fell flat and he grunted, stiff with tension. Even beneath the crisscross of cords expertly woven across the metal, Prowl could feel his spike pulse beneath his pede, the heat of his trapped charge like a spark-beat at his heel.

He pushed forward, harder and hard, until Shockwave began to lean back to avoid having his intimate parts uncomfortably squeezed. Prowl followed, urging Shockwave back until his bonds threw his center of balance off and he slipped, more gracefully than one his size should, onto his back on the floor, thighs raised and still spread. To his credit he still made very little noise, helm turning complacently to the side. In all his years of interrogation, Prowl had always found the toughest prisoners to crack were always the ones who did not fight back. Shockwave certainly enjoyed having the last word but he never attempted to express his superiority by resisting torture, never attempted to show how futile Prowl’s attempts were by vocalizing or even physically manifesting some kind of pride. Instead he allowed whatever happened to happen, even volunteering some information. Of course it was all things they either already knew or small infractions intended to offend or annoy, not real information. That he could keep, likely would keep, until torture brought him death. Hence the style of interrogation Prowl had chosen, immoral as it was, but he had not made the choice wholly on his own. The glimmer in Shockwave’s optic when the situation was suggested had made his decision for him.

“So, what will you admit to tonight? Some new minor felony I haven’t written down yet? Or nothing? Will it be a night of nothing but punishment?”

Shockwave hummed noncommittally.

Pursing his lips, Prowl frowned. Punishment it was.

Crouching down between Shockwave’s legs, he ran the crop up the shaft of his twitching spike, observing dully. Shockwave remained silent and still, even if the light trickle of prefluid down the side of the head gave away his interest. Shoving one of Shockwave’s legs further away, he traced a finger down one of the fat lips of Shockwave’s valve, not at all surprised to see a small pulse in the mechanics there as the stimulation made his calipers clench, trying to squeeze the plug either further in or out. Somehow he doubted it was the latter.

Continuing to run his finger around the cables holding the plug in, Prowl dipped down to occasionally stroke the stretched rim, silently cataloguing the deep plush purple of the mesh. The crop, in his other hand, continued to lazily swim up and down the cables on his spike, occasionally circling the wetted head. In a normal game of silence it was anyone’s bet who would win – Prowl did have on record that Shockwave had spent thousands of years alone at one time, and he didn’t strike as the type to talk to himself. This game, however, was rigged. Prowl’s specialty.

Sliding his hand down, Prowl began edging a thumb against the base of Shockwave’s valve, what was likely the slackest point in the penetration. There was little give at first, and he had no intention of causing Shockwave genuine damage, but he was patient. A moment passed, and Shockwave shifted minutely.

“Hold sill.”

He didn’t have to say it but he liked the authority. Besides, it justified the punishment. He pushed his thumb harder and began to feel the give. Shockwave twitched, grunting, and shifted one of his massive feet.

“What did I just say?”

With a quickly flick of the wrist, the crop smacked down on the side of Shockwave’s spike, which only resulted in him jumped again, this time without a sound but certainly with the stiffness of biting one back. He hadn’t hit him particularly hard, just enough to sting, but he enjoyed the effect it had anyways.

“Hold. Still.”

This time the command was obeyed even as he continued to push, his thumb finally, wonderfully, slipping inside beside the plug. Despite his small complaint, Shockwave’s valve was indeed roomy enough for the small appendage, and he gently stroked the inner walls a few times out of what might have been misconstrued as positive reinforcement. He let the crop go and moved his other hand to the cables outside the plug as he worked, finding and loosening the small knots he himself had specially constructed for this purpose, just until he was able to slide them away from the butt of the plug and give him free range. Shockwave had been squeezing hard and the moment the pressure holding the plug in was gone it slid out with an obscenely wet sound. It was only the quick action of Prowl’s all too talented fingers that kept it from pushing out completely, and as he retightened the cords at Shockwave’s thigh to keep the slack from affecting the rest of his bonds, he held it there, just at the valve mouth, teasing.

“You do enjoy your little games, don’t you?”

Shockwave sighed, but he didn’t move; technically he was remaining in line with the rules. Prowl frowned anyways, rotating the tip of the plug inside him.

“I don’t play games.”

He shoved it all the way back in with a slick squelch. Shockwave held still, but he rumbled low in his chest, the powerful motor of a tank exuding just enough energy to make the floor beneath Prowl’s feet vibrate. It was a testament to his ability to actually control himself, and Prowl had to wonder if his earlier slips in conduct were an intentional test. Likely. That seemed to be Shockwave’s main mode of operation.

“If you insist,” said Shockwave, and Prowl could feet, from his proximity, another burst of charge as it crawled across his plating. This was the challenge. This was the previously lacking behavior all convicts showed at one point or another, and Prowl knew he was close.

“I do.”

He pistoned the plug without warning, jerking his hand in precisely calculated movements to hit every pleasure point previously noted inside Shockwave, making him moan in low, throaty melody. He had been close for a while now, so it was no surprise when sparks began to pop from the joints in his hips and the small slick of lubricant trailing down Shockwave’s thighs began to really drip. He had been bracing himself on Shockwave’s stomach but now he slid both hands down to work, one continuing the pumping and the other stroking around his cut, the swollen nub above his valve, his sealed off spike housing –

And then he stopped. Shockwave groaned but remained still.

“Now,” said Prowl, “let’s talk.”

The shudder in his captive’s still frame was telling as any facial tick would have been. He could see, all at once, the curling of three giant toes, the flick of his antennae, the skitter of his EM field as it burned, desperately full of trapped charge. This was the night he was going to get everything he wanted out of him. He was close.

Funnily enough, Shockwave was thinking the same thing.


End file.
